Keep Me Guessing
by hostilecrayon
Summary: Quatre decides that Trowa should participate in the 12 days of Christmas gift exchange with him, but the more gifts Trowa recieves, the deeper the meaning of the gifts seem... 3 equals 4


Title: Keep Me Guessing  
Author: hostilecrayon  
Pairing: 3 equals 4, background 1 equals 2, 5 equals R  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: Trowa POV  
Word Count: 5,819  
Disclaimer: I don't own much. I definitely wouldn't live with my parents if I owned Gundam Wing.  
Notes: Written for Sharona1x2's prompt of Quatre surprising Trowa with something. I didn't really write anything Christmas-y last year, so this is my late contribution. This story is also inspired by Darthanne's 12 Days of Christmas. This was supposed to be a drabble… but it went astray and turned into a short story on me. My muse gave me no say in the matter. Thanks to tosatisfyme for encouragement and help with one of the gifts!

**Keep Me Guessing**

Anyone who knows me well knows that I'm not easily surprised. So when Quatre told me he wanted to take place in the 12 days of Christmas gift swap with me, I was intrigued rather than surprised.

The Preventors office was having a small, optional gift exchange, and we were given the choice of who we exchanged gifts with for the twelve days leading up to Christmas, and it made perfect sense that Quatre would pick me to be his partner for it. We were close friends, but not overly so, mostly due to our busy schedules. He didn't have to worry about his gifts being misconstrued, and it saved him from pairing with one of the many women who were interested in him – a mixed array of girls charmed by his wit and those who just wanted a piece of his fortune. Heero had paired with Relena and Duo with Wufei so the couples weren't just giving to each other, and that left Quatre with me. It was logical, and to be honest, it sounded a bit fun.

My interest peaked when I received the first gift.

It was already sitting on my desk when I arrived at my office at seven-oh-five on day one. I grinned, knowing that Quatre was likely finding his gift on his desk as well. Neither of us has ever been known for our tardiness.

I picked up the slim rectangular box, colored brightly with images of kids building snowmen, and shook it slightly. The dull thunk gave nothing away, so I calmly began unfolding the paper.

The box was a plain white, giving nothing away. With a slight air of anticipation, I pulled off the lid.

Not in a million years would I have guessed the contents of the box.

With care, I pulled the flute out of the box, running my fingers along the side. They caught slightly at the scratch on the side, just as I remembered it. On a whim, I held the instrument up to my lips and played a few notes.

The notes were as crisp as they were the first night Quatre and I played together, but the melody was strangely lacking without the flowing sound of Quatre's violin accompanying it.

Needless to say, I was greatly intrigued. I didn't even know Quatre still had the flute from that night. For the first time in a long time, I was pleasantly surprised.

Little did I know, Quatre was just getting started.

Though his gift was unexpected, I didn't feel poorly about my own choice of a gift. Sitting on Quatre's desk was a wicker basket with a carefully selected array of his favorite coffees snug around a brand new coffee mug that stood out in its ordinary design. It wasn't the coffee cup of an executive, or even that of a highly ranked agent. It was just a regular cup like anyone else would carry, with just a hint of uniqueness to the design. It was something I knew Quatre would appreciate.

I didn't get a chance to see him that day, but I made sure to send him a thank you note. Not surprisingly, he did the same, and it made me smile.

The second gift didn't come until the end of my shift. It kept me wondering all day, and I was more than ready to receive it when his secretary showed up at a quarter to five. She smiled demurely and handed me a large wooden box wrapped in red ribbons before retreating quickly without a word.

I wasted no time tugging at the ribbon and pulling the lid away. Nestled in the red velvet fabric was a bottle of the wine Quatre and I had shared the same night we had first played together. On either side sat a long stemmed wine glass. Pulling one out, I admired the elegant twist of the stem, much like I had the first night I saw them. They were the same kind of glasses we had sipped from, and knowing Quatre, they came from the same set.

I grinned a little, accepting the silent challenge. It was too late for that day's present – a delicate selection of fine chocolates amid various baked goods from the bakery he frequented each morning – but I knew exactly what I would get him for day three.

It took me a while to find them, but the hour of rummaging through my storage area that night was worth it when I found them hiding in the back of the bottom drawer of one of my filing cabinet.

I lined the box with red tissue paper much like the red of the ribbons from Quatre's last gift, and I placed the broken glasses inside the box, along with my coiled up slack line. Quatre had tried to walk across it, much to my dismay, and he'd lost his balance – and his goggles, sufficiently breaking them. I'd kept them just in case, knowing they held some sentimental meaning to Quatre. I never really thought I'd actually find a use for them.

Confident I'd surprise Quatre more than he could surprise me, I strode into work the next day with a bit of a grin hidden behind my morning coffee. My gift was sitting next to my computer, and I had to fight the urge to guess what he could have come up with this time.

When I finally opened it, I couldn't help but stare. It had no real value, much like my gift hadn't, but as I sat there staring at the ticket stubs from the opening day of the baseball season, I was overwhelmed by the memories they invoked. Hot, buttery popcorn and foot-long hot dogs with too much mustard accompanied us to our front row seats, and I could see his kid-like smile as vividly as if he were standing right in front of me. It was my treat – a day where Quatre didn't have to be the CEO of Winner Enterprises or the top Preventors Agent in international affairs. I'd bought him a giant foam finger, and he still has it on his wall even after all this time.

It was a treat for me, too, seeing Quatre like that; able to jump up and down and yell at the bad calls and cheer on the runners of his team. For a whole day, I had the pleasure of seeing Quatre be the twenty-something kid he was. It was fascinating, and I wanted to see more of it.

I knew then that I had gravely underestimated Quatre, and I found myself wondering exactly what the point of this little gift giving game was. Not one to back down from a challenge, I let it go. Quatre would reveal his motives in due time. I had bigger things to think about.

Like what I was going to give him on day four.

It took me a while to come up with something. I have to say, the idea of such thought-provoking gifts was a huge source of entertainment for me. I was starting to spend more time thinking up gift ideas than actually relaxing at home. My work didn't suffer from it, but my mind was usually only half focused on my task. Luckily enough, I can multi-task.

After much deliberation, I decided to go with a box of lavender tea. He had served it to me one night when I was sick, insisting it would help – and it did ease the sore throat like he said it would.

I didn't even have to open the box to know where the gift came from on day four. The cinnamon apple smell wafting through my office made my mouth water just like it did the day we got lost and ended up in that little diner. Quatre had insisted we take a break, being we were lost anyways. It was the last time I ever got directions from Hilde, but the food had definitely been worth it. One bite of their Apple Cinnamon Pie converted me, and we'd been back several times since then.

I couldn't help but think that regardless of Quatre's motive behind his strange choice of gifts, it was really a good thing. It brought back so many good memories that I let myself indulge in too seldom. Some of it was big, some of it was small – but all of it was good.

He left me with a smile on my face once again, and I just couldn't stop myself from trying to guess what he'd come up with next.

The next morning, I showed up just a touch earlier than usual. The office was still pretty deserted – even more so than my normally early time. My gift had already arrived, and even though there was no one around to see me, I set up my workspace calmly, but I was unable to completely ignore the excitement gripping my limbs.

When I pulled out the little black boom-box, I closed the door before following the simple post-it note's instructions of "Play me". The sensual beat blasting from the tiny speakers washed over me, and its meaning almost escaped my grasp until I started to move unconsciously. Maybe it was the tremors of my excitement, but I closed my eyes, absorbing the music, and slowly, the ghost of Quatre's body pressed against me, moving with a skilled grace that escaped even most professional dancers. He had left everyone else in the smoky nightclub either jealous, captivated, or both. It was the only time I had ever danced with Quatre, and in the cold of my office that morning, I wanted nothing more than to do it again.

I wasn't sure exactly what to think of that.

I wondered what he thought of my gift – an old picture we won together at a balloon popping booth at the local fair. I couldn't really ask him, as somehow during this little game, we'd stopped communicating entirely. Other than the short little note after the first gift exchange, I hadn't seen or heard from him. Somehow, it just felt wrong to break that silence; as if it were some unwritten rule in our unspoken game.

If I wanted to say something, it would have to be in my gifts.

Day six rolled around marking the halfway point of our gift exchange, and I could barely believe so many days had passed already. I hadn't looked forward to anything quite so much in a very long time. Everyday was quite the thrill, and Heero would probably never believe it, but each day brought with it some level of surprise, too. No matter how much I tried to stay merely intrigued, each gift held just that something to keep me on my toes.

I never wanted the 12 Days of Christmas to end, but at the same time, I wanted to hurry up and get to the last present just so the anticipation didn't eat me alive. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning, and it was alien to me. Alien… and refreshing.

In my mind's eye, I could see Quatre's soft smile as he opened my gift. The picture of us in front of Preventors HQ was taken not long after the war ended, and we looked young but sharp in our brand new uniforms and jackets. My arm rested casually around his shoulders, and Quatre had one of his brighter smiles on his face. In the background, it was easy to spot a blushing Duo and an avoiding Heero, and it never failed to make me chuckle. Bother of them were completely embarrassed that they had been caught on camera in that moment – the very beginning of their now longstanding relationship. Wufei was taking the picture, but though you couldn't see him in it, just the fact that we knew he was there gave that particular photo a sense of camaraderie that was hard to capture with our group.

I wanted to run to my office, but I knew that was silly, so I settled for a brisk pace, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator to come down from the fourteenth floor. I almost missed the keyhole with my key, and when I finally got it unlocked, I shoved the door open.

I should have been more concerned with being assigned to work weekends up until Christmas with some of the other top agents, but I didn't have much time to spare thoughts for that. Instead, I began looking for day six's addition.

It took me a moment to spot the gift, because it wasn't in a box as it usually was. Instead, it hung neatly on my chair.

My eyes widened slightly. Quatre had definitely outdone himself this time. I had given him a picture of us in our first Preventors jackets; he had given me my actual jacket. It was complete with bullet hole and blood stain, and my fingers absent-mindedly ran across the scar on my side.

It was during one of our early missions, and we'd been ambushed. Quatre managed to get us out of there in one piece, despite me getting myself shot. He'd cleaned and dressed my wound personally, and it reminded me of the war. Even after the paramedics arrived and I underwent medical treatment, Quatre made sure I was released to his care. I was under his roof for two weeks, and I would have been there longer if Quatre would have had his way. I smirked and shook my head at his stubborn streak. He wasn't the most successful young businessman in the Earth Sphere for nothing.

I ran my fingers along the reddish-brown spot and slid them up the sleeve. Aside from the stain, the jacket was still as soft as it was when they gave it to me. I didn't have any idea that Quatre still had it.

It spoke volumes about the value of our friendship.

That night when I laid down to sleep, the memories lingered longer than before. I could remember each of the occasions that Quatre's gifts represented vividly, and in turn, those memories led to others we'd shared. Not for the first time during our 12 Days of Christmas, I wondered what Quatre's motive behind his unusual gifts was.

I was starting to get the feeling that it ran much deeper than some shared memories, but I didn't dare examine that thought any closer than need be. Quatre would let me know in due time, so I would just have to wait.

I didn't manage to sleep much after those thoughts invaded my head, so I made my coffee a double and sighed as I melted into my swivel chair at my desk. I was almost apprehensive to open day seven's gift after the strange effects the game had started having on me, but in the end, my curiosity got the best of me and after I'd drank about half of my coffee, I picked up the little square box with the curly blue ribbon and toyed with it for a second before removing the lid.

I couldn't help myself. I started laughing.

Inside the box was a bottle of sleeping pills. To his credit, they DID have a memory attached to them – the time Quatre had taken sleeping pills on accident, thinking they were regular aspirin, and he'd fallen asleep in my lap at an airport in broad daylight – but his timing was just impeccable.

My gift of tokens from the local arcade we'd gone to in search of Pac-man was fun, but his gift really took the cake. It was just so appropriate; probably more so than he even knew. Despite my exhaustion, I found myself laughing softly throughout the day, which got me more than one curious glance from the secretaries.

It didn't take long for the rumor to spread throughout the secretary network, and by the next day, the secretaries were all talking about the mysterious gifts that made the stoic agent laugh and smile spontaneously throughout the workday. I had to close my door and shut my blinds to open my gift on day eight just to keep away from the prying eyes of secretaries trying their hardest to pretend like they were working.

The sleeping pills had definitely been put to good use, and I was feeling a lot better, so my excitement was back, and I didn't even bother to open the box as calmly as I would have had people been watching. Inside lay a small pin; a symbol of our part in the war. We had all received medals, certificates, global recognition (much to Heero and Wufei's chagrin), and little memento pins, each in the likeness of our Gundam. I had left mine in Quatre's care in fear of losing it. It wasn't something I needed – my memories were remembrance enough for me.

However, I remembered receiving them all the same; all of the Gundam pilots lined up with many of the others who had fought for peace. Each and every one of us received some sort of pin, and when I had just stared at it sitting in my hand, Quatre had picked it up and pinned it to my shirt. His smile seemed sunny and bright to those watching us, but his eyes held the burden we both felt knowing just what sacrifices were made for the peace we were celebrating so joyously. None of us were quick to forget the very real path of blood we had left in our wake, and with just a brief touch and a look, he asked me to endure it for just a little while longer.

My fingers glossed over the small artist's rendition of Heavyarms and I shook my head. I never did figure out how he knew I was planning to leave before the ceremony was even over, but I'm glad now that he did. It would have caused an unnecessary problem, and though it was hard, it wasn't so difficult with the guys' support. With Quatre's support.

My gift of the fedora he wore to the costume ball on Halloween to match mine seemed inadequate somehow, and for the first time during this game, I realized the key thing I was missing.

Most of my gifts outlined good times, or times that we looked back on and laughed. They were ideal outlines of a great friendship. His gifts encompassed so much more than that. They covered the hard times, the good times, the silly times, and all the other times in between. From the tentative beginning of our friendship to the most difficult things we've had to face – they were all there in his gifts. In the memories the gifts invoked in me.

I'm the guy people go to when people need observation skills, but somehow, Quatre had managed to go completely beyond those skills and hit me in a place much deeper. It was unnerving, and to say the least, shocking.

I wondered just how many more times Quatre could manage to surprise me in the next few days.

I kept turning the gifts over in my mind, trying to see the deeper connection between them. There was more to it, I knew. Quatre had never been one to be shallow, despite public opinion. In fact, he has more layers than anyone I've ever met. I have a feeling it will take me the rest of my life to fully know Quatre Raberba Winner, and for some reason, that doesn't bother me in the least.

By day nine, the secretaries weren't satisfied with me locking myself in my office with my gifts, and I didn't get more than five minutes of silence before another 'pressing issue' had to be addressed by someone or other. Every time my door opened, keen eyes would quickly sweep my workspace in hopes to find remnants of one of my gifts.

After one particularly determined secretary finally left, I shoved the box into my pocket and made my way to the restroom. The gift was unlikely to make any sense to them, but I was determined to at least have my privacy opening it.

I locked the bathroom door and leaned against it, sighing in relief for the temporary privacy. I rolled the box around in my hands for a few minutes, thinking. After the wide variety of stuff Quatre had come up with, I couldn't even begin to imagine what it was. He'd certainly done his share of keeping me guessing, and when I just kept drawing a blank, I opened the box and looked inside.

Nestled in the fuzzy lining was a blue paintball. I pressed my hand to my face and grinned into my palm. I had forgotten about our ruthless game of paintball. If anyone had been watching us, they'd have thought we were really trying to kill each other with paint. Only the amused glimmer in my eye and the mischievous one in his showed our playfulness. We'd ended the game in a draw – after we had simultaneously hit each other square in the chest with matching blue paintballs.

Movement drew my eye from the little ball in my hand, and as a toilet flushed, I realized I'd forgotten to check the stalls first. Heero walked out of the stall on the end and raised an eyebrow as he walked to the sink. "Why are you locking yourself in the bathroom, Trowa?"

He lathered up his hands, and I muttered, "I needed a moment of privacy. The damn secretaries won't leave me alone."

He shot me a look of sympathy in the mirror and went about drying his hands. He knew all about being stalked by the secretaries. As he came closer to the door to leave, his gaze was drawn to the tiny paintball in the palm of my hand. "What's that?"

I went with the obvious answer. "A paintball."

Heero nodded with a knowing look. "12 Days of Christmas?"

"Yeah."

"Relena has come up with some… interesting gifts for me. I hear Wufei is actually enjoying Duo's gifts, which amuses me. I'm sure my boyfriend has come up with some very unique ways to wish him a Merry Christmas." He smirked. "But why would Quatre get you a paintball of all things?"

I grinned. "I'm sure he has his reasons."

Heero shrugged. "I saw him walking around with a charm bracelet earlier. Was that your handiwork?"

"Yeah." It was something I had bought on a whim. He always liked collecting things, and all it took was a comment that the little lamp and rug reminded him of his time with Rashid, and more importantly, his father for me to come back later and buy the thing. I never ended up giving it to him because I didn't want to see that sad look on his face again.

But as I had recently learned from Quatre himself, friendships don't consist of just the happy memories.

Heero shook his head slightly. "I don't understand you two. Your obscure references escape me."

It was my turn to shrug, and I unlocked the door. "Some things are like that."

The way his smile turned wistful, I knew he'd found a way to connect the thought to Duo and their own obscure references. We went our separate ways without another word, but we both had an idea of what the other was thinking.

He may have had a better idea of what I was thinking than I did, but my thoughts were already busy with the possibilities of day ten, so I wasn't too worried about it.

It felt like the days were somehow getting longer, making the waiting all the more intense.

I didn't even start up my computer before opening my gift. I bit my lip slightly, smiling through the wince the memory the dictionary brought to mind.

Most people in the Earth Sphere spoke the Standard language, so the need for most culture languages wasn't nearly as useful as it once was. However, it didn't mean the languages were dead – far from it. They just weren't as wide-spread among people from different areas. Quatre had expressed an interest in learning some cultural languages, and I had bought him a Spanish-English dictionary.

Unfortunately, I hadn't had a chance to help him with the language before he attempted speaking it. In a public place. In a predominately Spanish crowd.

The results were dastardly. He was trying to make friendly conversation, and instead, he insulted the man's mother. Horrendously.

It took some fast talking on my part and a bit of fast walking out of there to save us from the large mob of angry men ready to pulverize us.

It was embarrassing at the time, but it was damn hilarious later. Since then, Quatre had learned to speak the language almost as fluently as I do, and I could tell by the wear on the dictionary's pages that he'd gotten a lot of use out of it.

But regardless of his near native accent, I can't help but remember his first time trying the language.

A couple of the secretaries caught a glimpse of my gift, and if their puzzled faces were any giveaway, they had no idea what the gift meant. It made me chuckle all the more.

I was a little worried about my gift. I wanted to follow his lead with honest and real memories, but day ten's gift was exceptionally emotional. It was difficult to get a hold of and it was only a small piece, but I knew he would be able to instantly tell what it was.

I was nervous, and I almost changed my mind several times, but I had already sent it, so it was too late to turn back.

I was just hoping the little piece of Zero wasn't too much for him.

Day eleven couldn't have taken any longer to arrive, and despite working on Christmas Eve, I was up and in my office by six. I didn't bother with any false fronts of calm, though I was thankful that the secretaries weren't due in that day. I ran up all ten flights of stairs and slammed the door behind me, pausing only briefly to take in the large box waiting for me on my desk.

It was one of the larger boxes I had received from Quatre, but that's about as far as my analysis went before I tore the lid off of it in my excitement.

What I saw made me stop cold. I stared at the contents of the box for a full minute before reaching out a disbelieving hand and slid trembling fingers across the smooth porcelain. I'd let go of it years ago, and I had no idea how Quatre had managed to get his hands on it after all that time.

"Tit for tat, Quatre," I whispered; the soft sound overly loud to my ears in the silent room.

Carefully, I lifted out my half clown mask. Underneath it was a flyer and a ticket stub from one of the performances Quatre had attended right after the war. I had given it up not long after that, even if I kept up acrobatics in my spare time.

I had tried to return to the circus, traveling around and performing for adults and children alike. It didn't take me long to realize that I couldn't continue. Everything about it reminded me of the war, and the memories were too vivid – too painful – to continue. Cathy had understood, and I had retired my clown mask, getting rid of it for what I had thought was for good.

But there it sat in my hands again, staring back at me with its half face and colorful paint.

I sat lost in a sea of memories for what felt like hours. I don't think I got much work done that day, if I managed any at all. It was such a powerful connection to my past, and though I couldn't deny that Trowa the Clown was truly a thing of the past, I couldn't help but feel as if holding the mask somehow merged the past and the present together. It left me wide open for a slew of emotions to make their way through me, and I spent much of the day lost in it.

When my thoughts had finally calmed, I picked through the contents of the box. Underneath the flyer and ticket stub, there was a little note. "Meet me at my Dune St. residence at 6:00 PM sharp to do the final gift exchange."

Most of the people participating in the 12 Days of Christmas had either given their last present early, or planned to give it after the holidays. I much preferred Quatre's idea. We would finish this on the time schedule we started with, and after eleven days of giving gifts that did our speaking for us, it only made sense to end this with a confrontation of our gift giver. I had a feeling that this whole ordeal was always meant to lead up to the twelfth day – a dance of sorts, meant to keep me guessing.

At the end of the eleventh day, I thought I finally had the answer.

Suddenly, how my eleventh gift went over – a Rubik Cube that led to hours of frustration and eventually a large dent in Quatre's wall – didn't seem to matter as much as making sure my twelfth gift was ready for our meeting the following day.

I told you I'm not easily surprised. Well, Quatre somehow managed to surprise me left and right. I also don't get nervous very easy, but my nerves were shot all day, and they reached a peak high when a shaking finger depressed the doorbell at 6:00 exactly on Christmas Day.

I fingered the envelope with my final gift while I waited. Quatre opened the door and gave me a brilliant smile, but I didn't miss the way his fingers fumbled with the doorknob when he closed it behind me. At least I wasn't the only one.

I couldn't think of anything to say off the top of my head, so I went with the question I really wanted an answer to. "Gift ten wasn't over the top, was it?"

His bright smile toned down to a warm glow and he shook his head slightly; his golden hair brushing slightly against his forehead at the motion. He looked amazing in his business-casual attire. His pale white dress shirt went perfectly with the dark blue slacks and comfortable dress shoes. He'd opted to leave the blue blazer hanging by the door instead of wearing it while he was inside, and it gave his an air of casual, yet serious. He looked like he just walked out of a magazine, and I admired his handsomeness while I waited for verbal confirmation.

He must have realized what I was waiting for, and his looked me straight in the eyes, his aquamarine irises alight with emotion. "No, Trowa. It fit the theme perfectly. All of your gifts were just that. Perfect."

The corners of my lips twitched. "Likewise."

He pinked slightly, and it added a sense of innocence to his look – even if Quatre was nothing of the sort, if recent events had anything to say about it.

His fingers discreetly pulled at the cuff of his sleeve. "Would you like something to drink?"

I nodded, if only to take some time to gather my thoughts and my courage. My fingers toyed with the envelope again, running along the seal before I took it upon myself to take a seat. I stood again abruptly when Quatre returned with a Root Beer for me and a Sprite for him. I took it and sipped lightly before setting it down again.

I cleared my throat before asking point blank, "Are you ready for the final exchange?"

Quatre took a few more drinks of his soda before he slowly nodded. "Yes…" he said hesitantly. "Yes, I am." His voice picked up a bit of confidence in the end, but the tremors of nervousness that slipped through matched my own.

With a deep breath, I gathered my resolve and realized that there was just no going back at this point. No matter what happened, neither of us could ever go back again.

He took the envelope out of my hands gently, and he turned it over a few times, staring at it as if he could see through the paper.

After a few moments, I laughed nervously. "It's not going to open itself, Quatre."

He grinned and bit his lip, carefully sliding his fingertips under the seal and removing the contents.

He stared at it for a moment in disbelief. "Reservations at the Armada? Oh Trowa… we haven't been there since the Pilot Celebration we threw for ourselves at the end of the war… How did you manage to get this on such short notice?"

"I pulled a few strings here and there." I paused, gathering my thoughts before continuing. "Quatre, it's not just reservations… it's… a date."

His eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought I made a horrible mistake, but the gradual smile that spread across his face lit mine up with one in kind.

The memories of our different experiences together wasn't about friendship. It was so much more than that, and it took Quatre literally shoving my face into it for me to see that the things I felt for Quatre could never be contained in a simple friendship. I wanted more, so much more, and I could only find it with him.

A slow flush crept across Quatre's cheeks, and he chewed on his lip before he found the courage to ask, "Are you ready for your final present?"

A rare, full smile filled my lips, and I nodded.

After a moment of hesitation, he grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly firm for how much he was shaking. I'm not sure if he leaned in, if he pulled me to him, or if we met in the middle, but before I knew it, his lips met mine, and standing in his living room on the twelfth day of Christmas at approximately six-fifteen PM, we had our first kiss.

And wouldn't you know it, not only did he manage to one-up my final gift, but he completely surprised me once again.

I felt him smirk into my lips when I finally reacted, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him closer.

He knew exactly what he did, the little devil. Whoever thought he was innocent had never been subject to the powers of Quatre Raberba Winner.

But then, I wasn't looking for innocent. I was looking for pure, unadulterated Quatre.

I guessed right; no other gift could ever compete.


End file.
